


Something Old, Something New

by leiascully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Semi-Public Sex, The X-Files Revival, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 13:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: Weddings make people think about sex.





	Something Old, Something New

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: ambiguous XF revival  
> A/N: You're welcome, tumblr.  
> Disclaimer: _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

"Mulder, I don't think this is appropriate," she said as he kissed his way down her neck. She was pressed up against the door of the bathroom at the venue.

"Trust me, Scully," he said, leaning into her until she could feel every inch of him. "Nobody's ever thinking about anything but sex at a wedding."

"I don't think that's true," she said, but her hands were exploring his back through the fabric of his shirt, her forearms under his jacket, and as his fingers pushed her skirt up her thigh, she raised her knee to help him.

"This wasn't what you wanted when you invited me to your friend's wedding?" he asked, the innocence in his voice belied by the way he nipped at her collarbone. 

"I didn't think it would take place at the wedding," she said. "Still fully dressed in our nice wedding outfits. In the bathroom."

"I could take your clothes off if you want," he said, and her witty retort turned into a moan as his fingers found her clit. Pleasure crowded out every other thought in her head, and every other sensation. She clutched at him. Her nails scrabbled on the cotton of his shirt, and she turned her attention to his buttons. She was glad he hadn't worn a tie. There was nothing to get in her way. He was all hers, familiar under her hands, softer than he used to be, worn-in like an old t-shirt that fit perfectly. He was everything, the scent of his cologne and his skin overwhelming the cinnamon of the bathroom potpourri, the friction of his fingers overruling her half-hearted objections. She wanted him more than she wanted to be reasonable. It was a chronic condition she'd had for years. 

"I need more," she said. She pressed her mouth against his chest. She could taste salt on his skin as her teeth slid against his skin. 

"I can't put my back into it like I used to," he said. 

"Please," she said, nuzzling into him. One hand clutched at the placket of his shirt and the other hand slipped down to palm the firm bulge under the fine wool of his trousers.

He lifted her onto the toilet tank; the porcelain scraped and groaned under her weight. "Mulder, not this," she said, but his fingers were still stroking her clit. She moaned and arched into his touch as he straddled the bowl of the toilet.

"This is the best option, Scully," he said against her lips. "This is sturdier than the sink."

"But," she began to say, but then gave up and pulled him closer, kissing him until she was dizzy, her head bumping against the wall. Her tongue slid against his as she fumbled with his belt buckle and the button of his trousers. His thumb caressed her clit as his middle finger slid gently into her. His free hand found her breasts, squeezing through the silk shell and the padded bra. 

"Yes," she said into his mouth, and he groaned. Her hand found his cock, yearning against his boxers. 

"Scully," he murmured, husky, his voice melting into her skin. He pushed a second finger into her and she wriggled so that her skirt slid up and she could spread her legs further, the porcelain rasping as she shifted. She was in love with his thumb: how had she never known that the pad of it was the perfect size to cover her clit, the whorl of his thumbprint offering ideal friction? She panted against the base of his throat, stroking his cock. There was a damp spot on his boxers, a sign of his anticipation. She opened to him even more, taking his fingers deeper, pulling him closer.

She came almost before she knew she was coming, her body shivering so that the toilet rattled under her. Mulder groaned, his other hand joining hers at his waistband. Together they shoved down his trousers. His belt buckle jangled as it hit the toilet, but he had enough freedom to brace his feet firmly. Scully maneuvered his cock out of his boxers and he breathed a sigh of relief and rough desire. She lifted her hips as his fingers slid out of her, and Mulder eased her underwear down. She lifted one knee so that they slipped off that foot and hung from her other ankle, which was still better than the thought of them lying on the bathroom floor.

"Still iffy about the bathroom?" he asked.

"Shut up and fuck me," she said, kissing him. He slid into her like he belonged there, like they had no greater destiny than this bliss, like nobody else might ever need the restroom. She tightened her muscles around him and they both gasped. There was his thumb again, unerring and patient against her extra-sensitive clit. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held him. He grinned and there was something feral in her eyes that delighted her. The toilet squeaked but held up under her weight and the force of his thrusts. 

She came, sucking hard at his lower lip as she shivered in his arms, and he groaned and thrust into her faster, harder, pleasure making him desperate. She dug her heel gently into the back of his thigh, goading him on, tipping her hips at an angle that made their connection slightly more snug as she gently moved his hand away. She was oversensitive now, her nerves jangling at any contact. 

"I was going to ask you to dance at the reception," she murmured in his ear. "And then I was going to dance just a little too close. And then I was going to do it again so you wouldn't think it was an accident. And then I was going to have an extra glass of champagne and ask you to drive me home."

"Sorry to ruin your master plan," he gasped. "But you can still do all of that. I'll make breakfast."

"The words every woman wants to hear," she said, tightening around him until he groaned and jolted against her. She pulled his head down to her shoulder as he panted and kissed his temple, running her fingers through his hair. He had a touch of grey at the temples. It was very dignified. After a moment, he pulled out, hitching up his trousers enough that he could step back around the toilet bowl. She reached for her underwear and retrieved it from her foot. Mulder helped her down and she steadied herself on her arm as she stepped back into her underwear. 

"It's a nice day for a wedding," he said, dampening a couple of paper towels and handing her one. 

"Yes," she said. "It's a very nice day."

"What's the forecast for tomorrow?" he asked, smiling tentatively at her.

"It's going to be even better," she said.


End file.
